


The Gardener and the Festival

by AlexStone



Series: Tolkientober [5]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bad Puns, Edinburgh, M/M, Tolkientober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26879341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexStone/pseuds/AlexStone
Summary: A busy shift for Sam Gamgee during the Edinburgh August festivals.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Series: Tolkientober [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948141
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	The Gardener and the Festival

**Author's Note:**

> Day 7 of #Tolkientober - 'A Character in Our World!' 
> 
> I've been sitting on the idea for a Sam POV coffee shop AU set in Edinburgh for a while. I think this is something I want to spin into a longer fic, and as such this may feel like more 'world-building' than anything else. There's some Frodo/Sam fluff in there, just some crumbs.
> 
> A small reference - 'The Shire' in this fic refers to 'Aberdeenshire,' a rural area in the north of Scotland.

For Samwise Gamgee, Edinburgh during August was like living in a too-small plant pot. It was not the month long festivals for theatre, literature, art, and comedy that monopolised nearly every building in the inner city. It was not the nigh doubling of the cities population with artists and tourists from near every country in the world. It was not the crowded streets, the clockwork ‘premium’ on his rent, nor the complete annihilation of his sleep schedule.

No, the thing that Sam resented the most about working in Edinburgh during August was the lack of any time to stop. _The Gardener Cafe,_ located just close enough to Victoria Terrace to attract seemingly every tourist that passed through the Grassmarket, operated a standing-room only service fourteen hours a day, seven days a week. The Guardian, as well as a couple of Instagram influencers, had featured _The Gardener_ in their ‘Best Roast of the Fringe’ reviews last year. Since then the cafe had been, in Marigold’s words, “complete fucking anarchy.”

There was something addictive about it, in the same way that driving A93 at 90mph was addictive. Sam was convinced that he was doing irreparable harm to his nervous system by subsisting almost entirely on Tesco meal deals and double espressos. Yet, as he shifted into what he hoped was a passable German, there was nowhere in the world he would rather be.

“Ja, wir haben glutenenfreie Sandwiches,” Sam explained to the extremely attractive elf behind the counter, “ich mag den Hummus oder die Roote Beete.”

The elf nodded politely, the Sam winced at the recognisable look of ‘cute accent, bad pronunciation.’ He packed the sandwich and cappuccino into a small bag and passed it over the counter. Marigold gave Sam a thumbs up and continued working on the lunchtime salad bowls.

“Thanks for that,” Marigold said, “I could never hack German. The sooner we get AI that can automatically translate conversations for us, the better.”

“I’m not sure we will need baristas if we have AI,” Sam said to his older sister, taking payment from a dwarf layered head-to-toe in 70s vintage clothing.

“Sam, even our robot overlords will need baristas,” Marigold stiffened and did a small ‘Mr Roboto’ dance, “Beep boop. One Nanospresso. Thank you meat subject.”

Sam snorted with laughter and quickly apologised to the stern looking man ordering a single black coffee. He checked his watch quickly. Just before 11. That should mean…

Almost on cue a small bell rang, indicating a new customer. Frodo Baggins walked into the cafe and smiled when he spotted Sam. Frodo was wearing the same tweed jacket and cord three-quarter length trousers that had become his fashion staple in the shire. He had a tote bag resting over one shoulder, and had tied his hair into a loose bun. The open door framed Frodo in brilliant summer sunlight, and Sam felt his heart skip at least three beats. He sidled past Marigold, who rolled her eyes and continued the lunch preparations.

“Busy day?” Frodo leaned over the counter.

“Same as always,” Sam whispered, feeling Marigold’s staring a hole in the back of his head.

“I missed you this morning,” Frodo brushed some crumbs from Sam’s shoulder, and Sam felt his knees melt, “do you have to do early shifts?”

“I had to cover Fatty, he had family visiting this weekend,” Sam explained. It had been agony leaving Frodo’s bed that morning, “I think I woke Pippin though.”

“Oh, Pip doesn’t sleep during August,” Frodo grinned, “you probably caught him at the end of a very long night.”

Sam giggled. He suspected Pippin had founded his improvised comedy group for the sole purpose of having an excuse to party. This year’s production of “ _Pippimprov!”_ hadn’t proved him wrong.

“So, about tonight,” Frodo bit his lip and looked up at Sam, “I thought we would grab a drink at Summerhall before seeing _Dead Ringers of Power_ , and then we can hang out in the Teviot performers lounge. Pip says he can get us in as plus ones.”

“Mm-hmm,” Sam felt his cheeks getting red, “what about afterwards?”

“Merry is taking Pipping shoulder-rubbing at the BBC tent,” Frodo leaned in and whispered in Sam’s ear, “so I thought we could go back to mine…”

“This is adorable,” Marigold pulled Sam back by the scruff of his collar, “but can I get a little bit of help?”

Sam looked back and saw a small queue of actors arguing over who’s turn it was to buy lunch, He looked at Frodo and mouthed an apology, before returning to the counter. Frodo smoothed his hair and made his way to the only available barstool. He produced a textbook from his bag and put in a pair of earbuds. One of the androgynous actors gave Sam a knowing smile. Sam blushed and began preparing six iced lattes. 

Sam, Frodo, Pippin, and Merry moved to Edinburgh for university several years ago. Pippin dropped out after two years and was living up the live comedy circuit thanks to a generous early inheritance. Merry graduated with a passable law degree and quickly found employment in his father’s real estate company. Frodo continued working towards a creative writing masters, and currently lived with Pippin in a Morningside townhouse. Sam sometimes wondered if he fulfilled their ‘normal person’ friendship quota.

Sam had continued working towards a career as a botanist, but a couple of recessions had left the sector starved for new jobs. He was grateful for his Gaffer’s foresight to buy an Edinburgh cafe a decade ago. It was good work, and allowed him to save a little bit each month. He could even splash out on Frodo’s birthday present, which he hoped to reveal by the end of the month.

The last hour of his shift was tooth-grindingly slow, and Sam kept looking over to Frodo making notes in his journal. When May Gamgee stepped out through the staff door Sam almost threw his apron at her, explaining that the oat milk needed replacement and that she should call him if anything goes wrong. He cleared a small pile of flyers for a Free Fringe event called _Saruman the Wise’s Two Towers of Business Management._ The cafe policy was ‘no additional flyers,’ which actually meant ‘no weirdos or right-wing comedians.’

Sam grabbed Frodo and almost pulled him out of his seat. Frodo barely got to finish the last of his shortbread before tripping out of the front door of the cafe and into the noon sun. Sam held onto Frodo’s hand, and they laughed before joining the crowd walking towards the Royal Mile.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on twitter at @AlexStoneWriter! Comments are greatly appreciated.
> 
> You can find the full list of Tolkientober prompts here: https://twitter.com/hobbitgay/status/1311350783238045696


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